Sympathy For The Devil
by Fallenbelle2
Summary: Refusing to feel guilt or sorrow at a man's death was one thing; openly toasting it with a bottle of the finest French Champagne was another.


Title: Sympathy for the Devil

Rating: It's a Strong Teen, but not really an M either?

Summary: Refusing to feel guilt or sorrow at a man's death was one thing; openly toasting it with a bottle of the finest French Champagne was another.

Author Notes/Warnings: This is an episode tag for the Season 10 episode "The Devil Inside". Spoilers ahoy! Don't read if you don't want to be spoiled. This is my version of events of what happened after "the big drop". Thanks to RuthieGreen for the beta.

Disclaimer: I don't own Murdoch Mysteries, and I don't own the Rolling Stones. If I did, I wouldn't be slogging away as a public school teacher.

* * *

 _Pleased to meet you_

 _Hope you guess my name_

 _But what's puzzling you_

 _Is the nature of my game_

 _"Sympathy for the Devil" from the album "The Beggars Banquet" (1968), by The Rolling Stones._

Though it was not standard procedure to have an unscheduled execution, an exception had been made in the case of one James Gillies given his previous escapes from the noose, and he was hung within hours of being recaptured. Save for ensuring that the barest of legal requirements were met, as little fuss as possible was made. Though the prison had scrambled to get an executioner in on short notice, ultimately no one had wanted to be responsible for another debacle and everyone involved agreed that they just wanted the damned thing done as quickly as possible.

Perhaps it was best that the authorities had been successful in procuring a last-minute hangman, because protocols be damned, she would have done the deed herself.

Thus it was only early evening when the devil himself had finally been pronounced dead and the rest of the night stretched out before them.

It was not the first time Julia had watched someone die, but it was the first time she watched a man's death with joy and righteousness in her heart. Though he hadn't said as much, she suspected that William had experienced something similar given his expression. Though he had crossed himself the moment after the drop, Julia noted the gleam in his eyes that accompanied his satisfied countenance and knew he would most likely soon feel conflicted about what had just happened.

Thus she was not entirely surprised when he soon thereafter announced that he would go to church. No doubt there would be some deep discussion and soul searching with Father Clemens on the events that had transpired over the past few days and she hoped that he would find peace with the clergyman because she didn't know that she would be able to offer it to William herself. Or she certainly wasn't going to chastise him for feeling thankful at this horrid man's death; not when she wasn't capable of showing any contrition for her own satisfaction of the day's events. Julia felt no guilt at her happiness over the man's death and that made her wonder if she should. What did that say about her? Did she care? She resolutely decided that she wouldn't.

Seeing as William was going to undoubtedly be a while with Father Clemens, and since she wanted to make sure that Mr. Gillies was good and truly dead this time, she accompanied the body back to the morgue herself. Relishing an opportunity to work in solitude, she turned up the phonograph as loud as it would go and immediately began the task of removing his brain. The thought of finally being able to do _something_ about this whole matter was a pleasant one, and cutting upon his skull was strangely cathartic, in a way that the same task had never been enjoyable before. Furthermore, the act of severing his brain from his spinal column was even more satisfying and yet she was immediately overcome with indecision; not about her feelings concerning his death, but now that she had her quarry, what would she do next? She'd known for years that she'd wanted to examine his brain, but now that the moment was here, she wasn't sure what the most appropriate method was or even what her end result would be. Did she seek publication based on these results? Was it merely to satisfy her own curiosity? Was there a greater good to be served from gleaning this knowledge, or was it merely an act of dominance, a victory tour that proved she and William had finally prevailed?

Acknowledging that perhaps it was best to postpone any move until an appropriate course of action and protocols could be decided upon, she decided to wait. Satisfied for the moment that there would be no miraculous return to life this time, and exhaustion from the tumultuous events of the past few days setting in, she called the funeral home to come and retrieve his body, as she had what she wanted and even in death, the sight of the man unnerved her.

Waiting for them to collect the body, she carefully placed the brain in a jar of formaldehyde and marked it "Jillian James" lest anyone try to steal it before she could examine it, and placed it under lock and key in a hidden cabinet that she alone had the key to. Once the men from the mortuary came for the body, she breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't realized she'd been holding and quickly cleaned up her morgue before leaving herself, deciding to forego the cab and take the opportunity of the walk home to collect her thoughts.

 _Perhaps William will be home by now,_ she thought to herself as she strolled down the streets, not caring at the glances she drew. _Well-bred women don't typically walk the streets alone after dark_ she acknowledged to herself. _But do well-bred women remove the brains of sequential killers for dissection and study?_ _Most assuredly not,_ she acknowledged to herself with a snort before returning her thoughts to William.

Assuming that he would be home soon if not already, she wondered what had transpired with Gillies. She was aware that he had kidnapped Roland and had threatened his life, but knowing the history between Gillies and William, she was willing to bet that there was more. What had the man said to William? She knew about the kiss a few years' previous, but had the man attempted something similar once again? Furthermore, would William be comfortable to mention these details to his priest? As she approached their hotel, she squared her shoulders and readied herself for whatever actions were necessary, save for condemnation. _That_ he was only going to get from the Church if he was going to get it at all.

She hoped Father Clemens had offered only support and encouraging words. Anything less and she would have to revise her favorable opinion of the man.

But what _was_ she going to say to William? What was he going to say to her? What could either one possibly say or do? They certainly couldn't celebrate, could they?

It turns out that William was home waiting for her as she walked in the door, the room half-lit in somber silence as opposed to a triumphant fête. Refusing to feel guilt or sorrow at a man's death was one thing; openly toasting it with a bottle of the finest French Champagne was another. Standing there looking at one another for a few moments, they soon mutually, wordlessly, agreed that no words were necessary as they immediately threw themselves at one another and began tearing at each other's clothes in an affirmation of life. Such was their zeal that they didn't even make it to their bedroom, instead falling to the floor in a fit of carnality on the fine Persian rug. It was primal and it undoubtedly bordered on rough, but Julia relished the burn of the carpet fibers against her skin and delighted in his moans of pleasure as she dug her nails into his back. It was anything but tender yet it was precisely what they had both needed: confirmation that they were alive, that they had survived the entire ordeal and had made it to the other side. It was as close to a celebration as they would get, and Julia thought it very apropos.

Later, after they had managed to make it to their room, Julia felt the bed shift as she realized that her husband had given up the pretense of sleep and went into the other room; a sure sign that not all had been confessed with Father Clemens. Waiting a few minutes, Julia lay there and decided what the next and most appropriate course of action would be before following him. Standing silently at the door to their bedroom, Julia contemplated the contrasts that exemplified her husband, who stood looking out the window. William Murdoch was a handsome man. From his dark brown hair with the hint of red that occasionally glinted in the light of the sun, to his deep brown eyes the color of the finest Turkish brew, to his beautifully proportioned face to his sculpted body that was neither too muscular nor too fat or thin, he was a pleasant sight to behold.

He was also an incredibly intelligent man, despite the fact that he was largely self-taught. Though he'd received an excellent education from the Jesuits, the fact remained that he was knowledgeable in many fields as a result of his own efforts.

He was also a good man. He attended church every Sunday (with few exceptions), his manners were impeccable, and he showed kindness and empathy to those who were in need of such. Perhaps because of his mother and sister, he was also a steadfast champion of women. He respected and defended them. As a result, he had attracted many an admirer over the years and more than a few women had sought to capture his attentions. Yet they had all met with failure for one simple reason: William Murdoch was a loyal man. Though it was not given lightly, once he had given that to someone, it was not easily lost. Unfortunately for the many hopeful ladies who had wished to be courted by him over the years, they did not understand this. Julia herself had failed to understand this once upon a time.

Nonetheless, William Murdoch was not an easy man to love, as he could be moody, vain, proud, supremely confident and insecure all at the same time. He could also appear cold and distant to some because he did not often give voice to his inner thoughts and feelings. While some mistook this for indifference, Julia knew that he was anything but unmoved: that if one looked at his eyes you would indeed see straight through to his soul and know his heart and mind precisely.

Thus it was no surprise that he had trouble sleeping, as she couldn't either, although she suspected it was for very different reasons: she was still trying to determine the exact nature and purpose of her examination of Gillies' brain, and wasn't sure whether to seek advice from her colleagues at the asylum, or notable experts in the field of neurology at the University of Toronto. She was willing to bet that his was a matter that he had felt he could not bring up to his priest.

Standing by the window looking out at the city scene below, William was deep in thought and failed to notice her approach until she placed her arms around him. Seeing no point in beating around the bush, Julia cut right to the chase. "Tell me what Gillies said to you. After you discovered that I was fine and before you shot him," she murmured, burying her face in his back.

Sighing deeply, he kissed her hands, but remained silent.

"William, do I need to ask as your wife, or as your psychiatrist?" she clarified, ready to assume whichever role necessary.

Laughing softly, he shook his head. "Both, perhaps," he answered as he turned around and led them back to bed. Acknowledging his need for honesty and openness, she removed her nightgown to show that she would bare all to him if necessary and Julia happily noted that he did the same, removing his pajamas as they both slipped under the covers, immediately seeking one another out. While it was intimate, the moment was anything but erotic.

Placing his head upon her breasts, she stroked his head in an effort to help him relax and open up. After a few moments, he finally did so.

"I suppose it comes as no surprise to you, but he had been following my life from a distance. He knew we had married, he knew we had adopted a child, I suppose he even knew that you had been shot though he didn't say as much. I've been wondering if he had even played a part in assisting Eva in that whole scheme…" he trailed off, stopping to look at her.

"But he didn't, did he?" Julia asked. She knew where this was going, but she knew William needed to see and acknowledge it himself.

"No, he didn't. They were uh, _competitors_ I guess you could say," he finally pronounced.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to look at it," she admitted, lightly scratching his neck in an effort to keep him open and talking.

"He said that I was the object of his admiration and ardor. The admiration aspect, well, that's not surprising. I suppose we have long had a sort of respect for one another and what we were each capable of doing…but ardor? Surely the man didn't actually love me, did he? Was he even capable of such a thing?" he wondered.

"Was he capable of love, admiration, and respect in the way we care for one another? No, I don't think he was. James Gillies was a damaged individual. His emotions and yours are two entirely different things altogether," she reassured him. "Are you thinking back to the time he kissed you on the train tracks? Perhaps it was just a way of getting inside your head once again? Or maybe he really had developed feelings for you, but does it matter? The only important question is do you have any ardor for him at all?" she asked, delving straight to the matter.

"Most assuredly not. He repulses me. Or, perhaps I should say repulsed. I was happy to see him die, Julia. I have no doubt that the man is in hell right now where he belongs."

"Are you experiencing guilt at your thoughts on his passing?"

"Somewhat," he admitted. "Father Clemens said that given everything the man has put me through, it's understandable and has given me some scripture and exercises to reflect upon over the next few days."

 _Well, at least there's that,_ she thought to herself with relief.

"If it isn't a spiritual matter keeping you awake, then what is?" she asked, draping a leg over him to pull him closer.

"Why me, Julia? Why did that _monster_ fixate on me? Am I a fiend as well? If the devil was inside him, am I a kindred spirit? Is the devil inside me as well?" he asked as he pulled back to look at her.

"The devil is inside all of us, William. However, for most of us, most of the time, humanity prevails and we ignore him, as no pleasure comes from heeding his will…at least most of the time," she smirked, seeing and taking the opportunity for a moment of levity as she allowed a hand to trail downwards to his member and firmly stroking it.

Snorting, he shook his head before stilling her hand. "Oh, Julia," he laughed. "Be serious."

"I am serious, William," she reiterated before guiding his head back down to her chest. "Think of all the good you have done, all of the sacrifices you have made and tell me you're the same man as James Gillies? You're not. Your intelligence might have been a match for one another yet you prevailed over him every single time, so I don't at all think you were equals…you were superior in every way. Has it occurred to you that perhaps James Gillies fixated on you because you represented everything he wanted to be? It's true that he had a cold, loveless childhood, raised by parents who were uninvolved, in circumstances not entirely dissimilar to yours. Yet you turned out nothing like him. You're handsome, your mind is second to none, you seek justice, you fight for those who cannot defend themselves, you are inherently good, William. That is why I want to study his brain, William, I want to know why that is. Is his brain different from ours, or was it his life experiences? Is James Gillies the product of nature, or nurture?"

And at that moment, she knew the answer to her own dilemma as to what she should do with Gillies' brain. She was going to contact both her colleagues at the asylum and at the university, and would make an informed decision then.

If necessary, she would even consent to the organ being sent elsewhere if that meant that progress on understanding how the human mind worked could be obtained. For once in her life, she was fine with someone else performing the necessary tasks and receiving the credit. Perhaps it was for the best that her name not be associated with any discoveries made given her associations with the man.

Blowing hot air across her nipple, before taking it into his mouth for a few seconds, William gently squeezed her breast as he cupped it with the palm of his hand. "This is why I'm glad we're married now," he confessed.

"So that you can molest me whenever you desire?" she asked with a teasing tone, yet making it a point to hold his head in place so that she might encourage him to take her back into his mouth

"So that we can talk properly now. I don't have to wonder anymore, I can just ask you and get my answer immediately," he replied, making it a point to shift slightly so that she now bore the brunt of his weight. Julia relished it as a comforting blanket, and a sense of security washed over her.

"You couldn't just ask me before?" she wondered.

"Not like this. We talk more openly now," he explained, gesturing between the two of them.

"In the nude?" she asked puzzled.

"Yes, there are no barriers between us anymore. It's just us now."

Understanding dawning, she laughed. "Yes, William, you're right. It's just us now, and we don't have to pretend anymore."


End file.
